


The Boyfriend

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Steve, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Galas and Parties, Humour, Insecure Tony, M/M, MIT Tony, Veteran Steve, romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Tony has been using The Boyfriend to get out of work obligations for a year now, but there's one fairly significant problem:The Boyfriend doesn't exist.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 104
Kudos: 1443





	The Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).



> sabre threw a prompt at me yesterday and this came out :D
> 
> Huge thank you to ashes and flame for making this happen and holding my paw and doing all the cool bits

"And the Spotted Owl Society," Obie said, still flipping through the paper. "Seven o'clock, Thursday."

Tony winced.  _ Shit.  _ He'd forgotten about that one. "Uh, sorry, Obie. But I forgot to tell you that Thursday -" He racked his brains for a good excuse he hadn't used yet.

"Don't tell me." Obie peered over the top of the paper, one eyebrow quirked up. "That boyfriend of yours needs a ride to the optometrist. Or his goldfish is sick. Or it's his aunt's birthday."

Tony forced out a laugh. "No…" He needed a really good one. When had he first mentioned The Boyfriend? Last November? He was definitely right around the SI Christmas parties. "It's our anniversary."

Obie set the paper down. "Really?"

Tony did some more quick math. Yeah, it checked out. "Yeah. It's been a year. So… sorry, but I don't think he wants to spend our anniversary glad handing foundation donors, but I swear to you, I'll be at the next one, Obie."

Obie was quiet for a stressfully long moment. "Don't you mean 'we'?"

"Pardon?"

"Don't you mean, 'we'll be at the next one?'" There was something pointed in his voice.

Tony gaped. "You… you want me to bring my boyfriend to a fundraiser?"

"Or a dinner, or a party, or a silent auction." Obie tapped a finger on his desk. "Tony, my boy, you're going to inherit this company one day and that means all of this will be on your plate. I won't be able to make your excuses anymore, and you won't have time for all this young love nonsense. And any person you chose to spend your life with is going to have to understand that. So, if it's really been a year, I think it's about time this young man sees what a life with you is going to entail."

Tony withered at the thought.

Obie, seemingly thinking it was concern over giving the love of his life a reality check, reached across his desk and patted Tony's shoulder. "I know it's hard, but you've been blessed with a lot in your life and some of that comes at a cost. You have an obligation to this company, Tony, and to your father's memory. If this boyfriend can't respect that, then maybe it's time to end it before things go too far, hmm?"

Tony opened and closed his mouth, at a complete loss as to what to say. "Right. Okay."

"The StarkWatch Product Launch is a week from Saturday. Enjoy your anniversary, and I'll tell all the people I'd promised to introduce to you that you're deep in product development mode and we didn't want to break your stride. But I expect both you and this boyfriend of yours to attend the launch and I don't want any excuses, young man. You've sacrificed a lot of time for him this year, it's about time he gave up a night for you."

"Of course, Obie. I'm sure it won't be a problem. We'll be there."

"Excellent. I have a conference call so why don't you go down to R&D until you leave for class?"

"Sure." Tony grabbed his bag and his nearly empty coffee cup and slipped out of Obie's office, grateful for the freedom. He went down to R&D and said hello to Isabelle and Clover, then pivoted out of the lab, back up the stairs to his office where he shut the door and turned the lights off. He sat down hard on his couch with a groan. 

Shit, he was in big trouble. Obie definitely wasn't kidding about him needing to present The Boyfriend in a week and half. If he didn't, Tony wouldn't be getting out of a single work event for the next several decades, and no excuse - even the valid ones - would be taken seriously.

The next day, on the way to class, Rhodey wasn't much help.

"But The Boyfriend doesn't exist," he said, unhelpfully.

"Yes, I am aware of that. If he did, my soldering with my right hand wouldn't be shakier than my left."

"Why would - oh,  _ god,  _ Tony. Don't put those images in my brain."

"Just be grateful we don't share a room anymore. Between Hill being on my ass about finishing my thesis, and Obie being on my ass about getting involved with SI, there isn't any more room on my ass for a more tender touch. But I've been using The Boyfriend as an excuse for  _ a year.  _ That's like -" Tony waved his hand wildly. "A thing. I can't just shake it off. At this point, I think the only excuse Obie will accept for him not showing up at the launch is that we've broken up, and if we break up, I can't use him to get out of stuff anymore. And if I invent a new Boyfriend too soon after, Obie will want to meet him right away because he'll think I'm rushing into things or rebounding or something."

Rhodey gave a half shrug. "At least he cares."

"What he cares about is that I'm not sleeping my way through Boston's influencers, making a name for myself in the tabs. He  _ likes  _ that I'm in a steady relationship, but I'm also not sure he fully believes me. Maybe this is him finally calling my bluff. If I say we broke up, he'll know I was lying all along and he'll make me suffer for it for  _ years."  _ Tony shook his head.

"So show up with a boyfriend. How hard can it be?"

Tony shot him an exasperated look and almost walked into a light post.  _ "Who? _ He already knows you and Happy, and all my other friends are girls. Most of whom he also knows. If I just pick someone random off of Tinder they won't be able to pretend they've known me for a year. Besides which, it has to be somebody  _ perfect." _

"Why?"

"Because if Obie suspects he's a jackass or he's gold digging or that he's going to be a PR problem, he'll insist he see The Boyfriend all the time, and he'll try and break us up. And I don't think there's any amount of money that'd make someone pretend to date me through that. So he has to be perfect, totally unobjectionable, without being so interesting or connected that Obie wants to make him a political asset. Just a nice, put together, polite young man who thinks I hung the moon."

Rhodey grinned. "Not so much to ask."

"And yet, here I remain, single. Gah. It's impossible."

"It isn't. Look you've solved the problem already."

"I have?"

Rhodey came to a stop outside his classroom door, and Tony stopped too. "Yeah." Rhodey looked at him like he was an idiot, which, fairly, was how he normally looked at him. "Money, Tony. You're loaded. You said 'there's no amount of money,' but there  _ is.  _ You are in college. Everyone here is broke - well, except you. Just pay someone an obscene amount of money, tell them what they need to do and they can play the part. They don't need to  _ actually  _ be that perfect. They just need to play one on TV."

"Huh."

"Get a drama student. Post something in the arts department at BU."

Tony shifted his bag higher up on his shoulder. "That's… a good idea, actually."

"Don't sound so shocked. I have a 4.0, you know."

"Lies. All lies."

Rhodey punched him in the shoulder. "Go to class."

"Lunch tomorrow?" Tony called as he walked away.

"Yup!" The door closed behind Rhodey.

Tony rolled the idea around in his mind all through class and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Money took all of the issues out of the equation. It meant he could vet and audition the options before he took them on. It also meant he could be unreasonably demanding as to what they wore, said, and acted like, and it'd all be compensated so he wouldn't feel guilty. Additionally, if the person was interested, he could be on call for further gigs if Obie demanded another appearance. If all went well, Tony could pay for three or four boyfriend nights a year - not to mention the added bonuses of glamorous nights out with fancy food and fancy company - and when he graduated, he and The Boyfriend could have an amicable break-up, and Tony could move to California like he was secretly planning and take on the SI office there. With an entire country between him and Obie. 

He could do this.

**

Figuring there was no harm in playing the field, Tony posted ads on all the campus bulletin boards he could find both on MIT and BU's campuses. He also posted an extra flyer at BU's art department student lounge, and another one on Craigslist, just in case. 

It took two days for replies to start rolling in and Tony set the first auditions up for Thursday - on his fake anniversary - since he knew Obie wouldn't interrupt. He sat cross-legged on his bed, Rhodey sprawled in his office chair a few feet away while they interviewed -

"Jason."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, so first of all, calling me sir isn't going to be very convincing. Also I'm only a year older than you."

Jason's nervous smile broadened.

"Have you done any acting?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "I was a member of the chorus for my local theatre's production of 'A Christmas Carol.'"

"And how old were you for that?" Rhodey chimed in.

Jason's cheeks pinked. "Seven?"

"Alright." Tony set Jason's resume aside. He wasn't sure six months at YoloFroyo was really going to prepare him for the pressure of being Tony's boyfriend. "Thanks for coming in. We'll be in touch."

"Okay. Thank you!" Jason leapt to his feet and all but rocketed out of the room. 

Tony groaned and did a faceplant on his Spider-Man duvet. "It's hopeless," he whined. "They all suck."

"Thor wasn't too bad." Rhodey flipped through the stack of resumes. "He's your type, at least."

"I don't have a type. Plus I think it might have come up sometime in the year of mentioning The Boyfriend that he was an exchange student from Norwegia."

"Not sure that's a country, Tones. Was it that or because he called you tiny?"

Tony pouted. "Am I so shallow?"

"Yes. You're also so tiny."

"I will murder you in your sleep. I know -" Tony's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, Tony Stark, right?" said a mellow, female voice.

"Yes?"

"You might not remember me. My name is Natasha. We met in Network Systems last year? We did the recipe card group project together?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course. I remember you. How are you Natasha?"

"Just fine. So, I teach after school dance lessons and one of my studios is on BU campus and I saw your ad."

Tony blinked across the room at Rhodey who stared back and mouthed  _ what?  _ But Tony just shook his head. "How'd you know it was me?"

"It was fairly obvious," Natasha said flatly.

"I'm - I used a super secret email and everything."

"Sure. Anyway, do you want a lead or have you already found someone?"

"I haven't found someone," Tony said a little petulantly. He'd been very sneaky, he was sure of it.

"Good, cause I have the perfect person. His name's Steve Rogers. He's twenty-four, just got back from a tour in Iraq. Honorable discharge. He teaches art classes now and tries to sell his paintings. He's sweet, polite, generous, and needs the cash. He's smart as a whip and will give even you a run for your money. He's also been out of the dating scene for a little while and I think this'll be a good way for him to have some no-pressure practice dates and, you know, some social interaction."

"You make him sound like a hermit."

"Nah, he's just a social butterfly still in the cocoon stage. You can help him burst free."

Tony blinked again. "Like an alien from its host chest."

"How appealing," she drawled. "Did I mention he's extremely yummy? Like could be January to December of the sexy armed forces pin-up calendar five years in a row and no one would complain yummy."

"Sounds like you should date him."

"He's not my type." Natasha clicked her tongue. "He's yours though."

Tony humphed. "I do  _ not  _ have a type!"

"Okay. Anyway, do you want his number or not?"

"Sure, why not. It's not like I'm drowning in quality applicants here. I'll give him a try. No promises though, I'm very choosy."

"Uh, huh," she said, like she had no doubt Tony would be choosy in Steve Rogers' direction. "Okay. I'll text you his number and email."

"Sounds good." Tony opened his mouth to ask how Natasha's studies were going, but she'd already hung up. "Huh," he said to his phone.

"Who was that?" Rhodey asked.

"I think we might have a lead…"

**

Rhodey was busy with a project the next day, so Tony texted Steve and arranged to meet him at a coffee shop for an interview. It was sort of awkwardly too much like a real date already, but Tony's concerns flopped right out of his head - along with reason, logic, the quadratic formula, and his own middle name - when he saw the piece of grade-A, American beefcake waiting at a table with both hands wrapped around a latte mug.

"Ah," Tony said, right to his face. He was starting to get this whole  _ you have a type  _ thing.

Steve frowned. God, he was even pretty when he frowned. "Tony?"

"Yes, that's me. You don't recognize me from TV?"

Steve's eyebrow twitched up a little, along with the corner of his lips, but he schooled it back down again and said, "Sorry. I don't watch that kind of thing."

Tony almost asked,  _ the news?  _ But instead he turned towards the counter. "I'm going to grab a coffee. Do you want anything?"

Steve gestured to his mug. "I'm good, thank you."

"Okay, I'll be right back." Tony ordered… something. His mouth moved and the cashier nodded so it seemed like he'd ordered something, and when they called his name and handed him a cup, it smelled like milk and coffee. Back at the table, Tony sat across from Steve and eyed him up. "Nat says you're an artist."

"Mhm." Steve held up his hands to show traces of paint caught in his cuticles. "I clean up real nice, though."

"Didn't think this meeting was clean-up worthy?"

Steve smiled. "It was a bit last minute."

"So…" All of Tony's questions were eluding him at the moment while he watched Steve lick a wayward drop of latte from his lip. "She explained the gig to you?"

"To some degree. You're looking for a date… a hired date. But someone who will show well?"

"It's just occurring to me now that I could have ordered a very high-priced escort," Tony said with a sigh, "but, yes, basically. And hopefully someone who's willing to come back and pretend now and then over the next year."

"Honestly pretend to be your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I told someone, sort of a father figure, about a year ago that I'd started seeing someone, and I used him to, well, get out of stuff I didn't want to do, basically, but also to make time for having a life. I'm working on a PhD, teaching three classes, and working at my father's company in preparation for taking it over when I graduate. Sometimes I just needed a night off, so I said my boyfriend needed me. And then I'd watch West Wing and eat string cheese and brownies and fall asleep at nine-thirty."

Steve chuckled into his latte. "That's having a life?"

"Yes," Tony said firmly. "If you find all of this distasteful, then it's probably not a good fit."

"Oh no," Steve's smile brightened into something warm and friendly. "Not at all. I think it was a good plan. Right up until, I'm assuming, he demanded to meet said boyfriend?"

"Nailed it. I have an event next Saturday - the hoity-toity caviar and champagne kind - and I need to have The Boyfriend on my arm. I'm paying instead of calling in favours because it's vital to my health and well-being that this person follows along with my story and doesn't screw things up for me. It also has to be someone Obie won't know. How's your memory?"

"Fantastic."

"Are you single, or is some jilted lover going to Kelly Clarkson my headlights while we're being photographed at the Met Gala?"

Steve grinned. "I'm single. Have been for a while. Also pretty sure that song was Carrie Underwood. Are we really going to the Met Gala?"

"Oh, right. Natasha mentioned that was part of your reason for doing this. Dry run for the dating scene. And who knows? I've been invited before."

At that, Steve's cheeks flushed pink. "Well. I guess so. I mean she thinks I should get back out there. I like the idea of meeting some people, spending time, you know, out. But I'm not sure I'm ready to date anyone. This is more like… I mean, I know we don't really know each other, but it'd feel like helping out a friend?"

Tony was momentarily flummoxed by that. He assumed Steve was going to say it'd be like a job. "You don't know I am but you know Carrie Underwood and the Met Gala. Huh." Tony just stared at him when Steve didn't reply but gave a cute little one-shoulder shrug with an  _ ah shucks  _ smile. "Well," he said, shuffling his notes for a moment. "That's nice. Uh. I'd pay for you to get a custom suit, as well as any transportation or expenses and these sorts of things always feed you well. Plus sometimes there's gift bags which you'd get to keep."

Steve nodded.

"I'd always give you at least a week's notice and I'd do my best to deflect before booking you in for something else, but it might be unavoidable at times."

"No problem. I teach classes in the morning, but evenings and weekends I'm pretty much always free. I wouldn't mind being needed a lot."

"Okay." Tony stared across the table at Steve. "It's… kind of a lot. These are high pressure social situations and I can't cover for someone who gets flustered and forgets the story. I'm going to have people and names and dates and handshakes of my own I need to remember."

"No problem."

"You seem awfully confident."

Steve dropped his gaze to his coffee cup then flicked it back up to Tony, looking cheekily at him through his eyelashes. "I was special forces. Natasha probably didn't mention that. Honestly, Tony. I have a killer memory. I'm not worried about that."

"What are you worried about?"

Steve shrugged. "Using the wrong fork for the snail course?"

Tony barked out a laugh at that. "Don't worry, escargot forks are pretty obvious. And I don't mind walking you through that. I haven't told Obie much about The Boyfriend, so you can still be your artist self and it can still be your first time at an event like that. You can still be called Steve, unless you want to use an alias. You'll just need to learn about me and make sure some of the lies I've told about where we were when stay accurate. Other than that, it's about being the perfect boyfriend so Obie isn't suspicious of you."

"What's the perfect boyfriend to you?"

"Uh." Tony shrugged. "Thinking I'm cool? I guess. Remembering my birthday. Not dumping me at the salad bar to take my biggest competitor's niece for a romp in the cloak room? Whatever perfect boyfriends do."

Steve's brows knitted together. "Yeah, that won't be a problem…"

"Okay." Tony watched Steve sip his coffee. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I - look I'll be honest, you're the only halfway decent application I've had for this and I don't really have time to be coy. If you're in, I'm in. I'd like to go on a practice date, though, with some of my friends who know the gig and some of their friends who don't. If anything gets fucked up it'll be no harm no foul for my social life, just a silly prank, but we'll know we've got problems. I'll pay you by the hour for both events, plus a few hours to cover the research which I'll email to you tonight. If the practice date doesn't go well, or you decide it's too stressful or whatever, I'll still pay you for that whole night and the research."

"That sounds very generous," Steve said. "When's the practice date?"

"Pepper is having a party this Saturday. She doesn't know about the arrangement but Rhodey does. Natasha will be there as well and she's bringing her joined-at-the-hip friend Clint who also doesn't know. Our goal is to convince Pepper and Clint that we're dating. If that goes well, we're on for the major league product launch." Tony chewed his lips, thoughts of the launch churning his stomach. 

"Sounds good to me. What should I wear this weekend?"

"It's casual. Whatever you like. Though, I'm digging this whole 'shirt may violently tear open if I breathe funny' look you've got going on right now so lean into your instincts."

Steve looked down at his own chest, barely contained by a t-shirt size that Tony could only assume was aimed at teen girls and not ex-special forces GI Joes come to life. "Okay," he said, with clear confusion.

"Okay," Tony echoed because the only other thing he could think to say was  _ how much do you have to insure those biceps for,  _ but that didn't feel like an appropriate thing to say to someone who was effectively about to be an employed contractor of Tony's. He stood up. "I'll email you the notes tonight and you can call or text me if you have any questions."

"Sounds good." Steve stayed sitting, half his coffee still in his mug, so Tony shook his hand and took his own to-go cup with him as he left the coffee shop. 

Tony was a bit thrown. He hadn't expected to pick someone and offer him the job right then and there, but he was tired of sorting through prank responses to his ad and interviewing totally useless people. Steve was smart, on top of things, and hadn't laughed at Tony's predicament, which were all good signs. He also wasn't hard on the eyes - though he was a bit firm other places - and that certainly didn't hurt. The practice date would be the real test though, and Tony couldn't help a bolt of anxiety when he thought about it. If it didn't go well, there wouldn't be much time to find someone else.

**

Steve had agreed to meet Tony a few blocks away from the party and walk in together, giving them an opportunity to check in with each other before the game would be afoot. Tony kicked his feet back and forth where he was sitting on a large electrical box, scanning the street for Steve's arrival. 

He was expecting the bus, or a 2004 Corolla, maybe. Or at best, a hot hatchback.

Tony was not expecting a Triumph, Bonneville, Speedmaster in lipstick red rumbling down the street, Steve's denim clad all-the-way-to-the-floor-and-back-up-again legs parted on either side of a perfectly maintained, buttery leather seat. "Holy shit," Tony said out loud, but thankfully the purr of the engine was too loud for Steve to hear it.

Steve clicked it off and removed his helmet, which, instead of pasting his hair to his forehead managed to make it tousle up in the kind of post-sex, sculted bedhead that hair gel commercials paid the big bucks to manufacture. He smiled a row of perfect, white teeth at Tony, eyes flicking up and down. "Hey," he called.

Tony hopped off the electrical box and crossed the sidewalk to stand next to the bike. "Nice ride," he managed, and it only a little bit sounded like a vole had crawled into his throat and stayed there.

Steve beamed. "Thanks! I love my old girl." He patted the handlebars. "Want me to drive us over so we arrive together?"

Tony's mouth flooded with drool at the thought of snuggling up to Steve's back and cruising down the street, even if it was only a few blocks, but he had other things in mind. "I think we should walk so we can check in before there are eyes on us.

"Okay." Steve swung his leg over the bike and clipped his helmet to a lock on the back. He looked at Tony for a moment, then, when he failed to move, held out a hand towards him.

Tony took Steve's hand and their fingers wound together. He expected Steve's hand to be cold from the bike ride, but it was warm and big, curling around the back of Tony's in a firm but gentle hug. Tony turned towards the party and took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream. 

Steve's hand squeezed his. "Nervous?"

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

Steve shrugged. "Not really. I was nervous before I sent thirty men into Baiji with no backup. With this I'm just hoping there's good snacks, to be honest."

Tony stopped walking with a tight frown. "I have some concerns that you're not taking this seriously enough. Look, I know it seems dumb, but this is really important to me and I wouldn't have paid this much and spent this much time looking for someone if it didn't matter. Obie isn't -"

"Hey," Steve said softly. His thumb petted across the back of Tony's hand as he stepped in closer so they were nearly chest to chest. "I swear. I'm taking this seriously, okay? I'm  _ not  _ going to screw this up for you. I promise. I'm just not that scared. Pretending to be your boyfriend isn't as hard as you think it is. I did my homework, got caught up on a year's worth of dates, and now the rest is just acting like I like you." Steve leaned in even closer, and Tony could smell Big Red on his breath. "My secret weapon is that I actually do like you, from what I've seen so far, so I don't even have to be that good of an actor. Okay?"

"I -" Tony blinked. "Okay."

"Good." Steve set off down the street again, and Tony followed him. 

The party was hopping already by the time they got there. Tony said hello to a few people then turned around to find Steve standing behind him with two cups. "Here."

"Oh, thanks."

"Tony!"

Tony spun around and saw Pepper, who flung herself in his arms. "Hey, gorgeous." Tony kissed her cheek.

She settled at his side and eyed Steve with obvious interest. "And who's this?"

"This is my boyfriend. Steve."

"I seeeee," she said, stretching it out. "Steve. I assume you're a Chippendale dancer in your spare time."

Tony opened his mouth to explain that she was kidding but Steve winked at her and said, "Actually, I work the pole. Plus private dances, obviously."

Pepper burst into laughter. "Lovely."

"You guys should talk, actually," Tony piped up, "because Steve's an artist and his stuff's amazing. You should talk about having him in the gallery."

"Really? I'd love to. Send me your portfolio, Steve. Tony will give you my email."

Steve looked stunned. "Really? Wow. Thank you."

"I have to put out the hummus. But it was really nice to meet you, Steve! We'll talk more later." She hugged Tony. "I like this one. Don't fuck it up."

"Why do people always think  _ I  _ fuck things up?" Tony called after her as she walked back towards the kitchen. Tony turned back to Steve with a sigh. "To be fair to her, I usually do."

"Yeah?" Steve followed Tony to the couches in the corner of the living room.

"Yeah. I don't have a great dating history. As I'm sure you realized during your homework. People just want me for their fifteen or for a good insta story or something. Or the money."

"That doesn't sound like you screwing anything up," Steve said.

"Yeah, well…" Tony didn't know what to say. "The few times it hasn't been one of the other things, I did."

"Okay."

Tony sipped his drink. 

"Uh."

"Yeah?"

"When you said Pepper should look at my art..?"

"Yeah?"

Steve twisted his fingers together. "I just - since you haven't seen it, it seems a big disingenuous to -"

"I have seen it."

"What?"

Tony leaned closer and dropped his voice low so they wouldn't be overheard. "I have seen it. You think I didn't do research on you, too? Your art is amazing. You should be in the gallery. Pepper can get you hooked up."

"Oh." Two spots of pink appeared on Steve's cheeks. "Thank you."'

"So… honorable discharge, huh? Is that a rude thing to ask you about?"

Steve smiled gently. "No, it's fine. I tore my ACL in combat. They were talking about sending me home already, and I was fighting it with everything I had, when I found out my mother had died. At that point, all I wanted was to be home, so I took the discharge and ran. But I don't really have any other family, so it was just me… at my mom's house. Alone. So I packed up everything and moved to Boston. Fell back to my art."

Something twisted in Tony's gut at the thought of Steve losing his parents. "Yeah," was all he seemed able to say, but Steve shared a look with him that felt like something more.

The rest of the party went well. Steve was charming and everyone who met him seemed to like him. He followed Tony around the whole time, which was a bit awkward, but he was easy to talk to, and they managed to find conversation most of the time, which was actually nice when Tony found himself with no one else immediate to chat to.

Most importantly, no one accused them of lying about dating, so Tony was calling it a win.

Back at home, Tony dialed Rhodey. "He's weird, right?"

"Tony's it's like two in the morning and I just crawled into bed."

"Yeah, but he's weird right?"

"Weird in what way?"

"Like… weird. I don't know. He's too nice."

"You are paying him to be nice."

"But like… is he doing a good job?"

"At pretending to be a good boyfriend? Yes."

"But… in a weird way?"

"No, Tony. What you're finding weird is that he didn't ask you for money, slap your ass in public, or forget that you were the person he came to the party with. That's not weird. That's  _ normal  _ boyfriend behaviour."

Tony pondered that for a moment. "Really?"

"Yes."

"So you think he's a good choice?"

"Yes. And now I'm going to bed."

Tony flopped onto his own bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

Rhodey hung up.

**

"Okay," Tony said for the seven hundredth time. 

Steve squeezed his hand. 

"There's going to be press here."

"You mentioned."

"You are unfairly calm," Tony informed him.

"I took a valium before we left."

Tony turned at him, mouth open in shock. "Steve! You -"

"I'm  _ kidding,  _ Tony." Steve laughed. "Oh my god. I'm kidding." He tugged him closer and pressed his lips to his forehead. "You're going to be fine. You've got this in the bag."

"Okay. If you say so."

"I do."

"Let's do this then." Tony pushed open the limo door and made for the front entrance of the Bowdery Ballroom. There were a few people smoking or chatting out on the patio, and Tony nodded to the faces he recognized. Steve's hands slipped into his, his shoulder pressing tightly against Tony's as they stepped inside.

It was busy already, and Tony scanned the crowd for the people he had to make nice with, but when he stepped forward, Steve didn't move, anchoring him in the front foyer. Tony turned back to find Steve staring in awe up at the ceiling.

The event centre was a reclaimed factory, with lots of exposed brick and steel-framed windows, and the ceiling was crossed with enormous beams that were polished to a gleam. Tony watched Steve absorb the view for a moment. He'd never really taken the time to admire the building's beauty before. "You like it?" he asked, and Steve's eyes snapped back down to him.

"It's gorgeous. You've been here before?"

"Yeah. A bunch of times."

"Wow." 

"Come on. We have to schmooze before speeches." Tony tugged on Steve's hand, and he went with him this time. Steve clung close to his back as Tony guided them effortlessly through the crowd of people, eyes on the corner where Obie was chatting with a few investors. He wanted to get this introduction over with so it wouldn't be hanging over him all night, so he wouldn't come up with an excuse to dodge him until it was too late and he'd have to book Steve again. Tony sidled up to them and the group dispersed. Obie turned, looking Steve up and down with visible surprise.

"Obie, I want you to meet my boyfriend," Tony said, with all the confidence he could muster. "This is Steve Rogers. Steve, this is Obediah Stane."

Steve extended his hand. "It's an honour to meet you, sir. The things SI has done for the military is unparalleled."

Obie's eyebrow quirked up. "You serve, son?"

"Yes, sir. One tour in Iraq."

"And now?"

"Now I teach art."

Obie didn't look particularly impressed with that, but it was a relief to Tony. If Steve looked like good political capital, Obie would try and absorb him into his circle like he had with Ty. Tony'd barely seen him alone after that. "Well. Good for you," he said distractedly.

"Thank you for inviting me, sir," Steve added. "I would have liked to accompany Tony to one of these events before, but he wisely wanted to wait to go public with our relationship until it was more established. I also wanted to thank you for letting us have our anniversary together last week. It means a lot to me."

"It was Tony's idea to wait, hmm?" Obie glanced at Tony, and he shrugged.

Steve curled an arm around Tony's waist, possessive and affectionate without being inappropriate. He beamed down at him and Tony was momentarily dazzled by the blatant affection in Steve's expression. "Yeah, he's brilliant." He turned back to Obie. "And of course, I've heard so much about you, sir. As an aspiring business owner myself - I'm working on starting my own student gallery and art school - I'd love any advice you're willing to share with me."

That puffed up Obie's chest, and he showered Steve with platitudes and firm reminders that made Tony roll his eyes in his mind. Obie's boomer approach to business was a constant point of contention between them, but Steve hung on his every word, and Tony hoped he was at least getting something out of the conversation. If he wasn't, he was certainly making a good show of it. 

What absorbed Tony's mind more than Obie's words, was the way Steve's arm stayed circled around his waist, his thumb drawing small circles against the outside of Tony's hip. A little cheeky, maybe, but all the older folks would be expecting Tony to be a little cheeky, a little more showy than was entirely proper. It'd give them something to tut at. They loved something to tut at. Tony caught a shrimp cocktail as it floated by on a tray then leaned into Steve's side, enjoying the way his firm, steady weight made a comfortable curve for Tony to rest against.

A woman with a clipboard interrupted after about ten minutes, tapping Obie on the shoulder then gesturing to her watch. 

"Oh yes, my apologies, Angela. I have to get ready for my speech." Obie took Steve's hand and shook it. "It was wonderful to finally meet you, Steve. I hope Tony will bring you along more often. There's a lot to learn here. A unique opportunity for someone your age."

"Thank you, sir," Steve said politely. "I'd love that."

"Alright. You kids have fun. And Tony?"

Tony raised his eyebrows in question. 

"When I mention you in my speech, don't make that face you make. You're twenty-two, not twelve."

"Alright, Obie," Tony grumbled. He didn't even know what face Obie was talking about. If he made a face, it was just because that was… his face.

Obie hustled off to get primped in the green room, and Tony steered Steve towards the bar. "I need a drink."

Steve frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Of course. I just - look, one of the few benefits of things like this is the open bar. Let's get something expensive. Plus I'm pretty sure those are crab puffs." 

Steve let himself be led again. They stopped at the bar and then, drinks in hand, Tony scoped out the room. "Okay, I see crab puffs, I see more shrimp, I see something that looks like it's heavily cheese-based. I also see Priti, Savannah, and Ryan. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to hit the full tray buffet without being spotted by the enemy. Bonus points if we end up with buffalo sliders, because Mr. Oglethorpe is known to stand by the kitchen door and catch whole trays as they come out."

"Roger," Steve whispered in his ear. "I've got your six, over."

Tony ducked along the long side of the bar and around a clump of tables, trying to keep his eyes on the whole, shifting Where's Waldo that was the party as he moved. "Do you really say, 'over,' on walkie talkies or is that TV nonsense?"

"Of course we do. How else would we know when your sentence was over, over?"

Tony snorted. "Now you're teasing me."

"I wouldn't dare. These sorts of events are full of importance and.. Uh… gravitas. And - uh -"

"Gravy?" Tony offered.

"Only if Mr. Oglethorpe gets distracted. I'm pretty sure the sliders are au jus." Steve's hand curled around the back of Tony's neck for a moment, helping him dodge a displaced chair, then slid across his shoulder to run down his arm and wind their fingers together. A shiver followed his touch and a hot flush followed that. Tony hoped his ears weren't blushing or he'd look like a tomato in a suit in all the press pictures. Once he started turning pink, it was hard to stop, and Steve seemed to have a gift for making him heat.

They made it to the cheese pastries and loaded up napkins, then cut through the party, aiming for the crab puffs, but Tony was briefly distracted by a champagne tray, and he missed Mrs. Martinez sneaking up on him from the left. 

"Tony, darling." 

Tony startled away from the champagne flute. "Ah. Mrs. M. You look lovely, tonight."

"Thank you, dear." She looked pointedly at Steve. "And this is?"

"This is Steve Rogers." Tony took a breath. "My boyfriend."

"Oh my, well. It's lovely to meet you." She shook Steve's hand. "And what do you do, Steve?"

Tony tried to beam into Steve's head that this wasn't a time to be overly honest, but he seemed to glean that all on his own. "I'm a teacher." 

"Mrs. Martinez is our VP of Marketing," Tony butted in. "Tonight is her baby."

"Ah, well, in that case, congratulations," Steve said. "This is an amazing party. And I can't wait to see the presentations."

"Do you know much about the new product, Steve?"

Steve sipped his wine. "Only what Tony's told me. He's been working so hard on the circuit design the last few months, I've barely seen him. But it's worth it, of course. I'm so proud of him." Huh. Tony'd forgotten that had been a note in the research he'd given Steve. "The improved GPS is going to revolutionize the market," Steve went on. "It must be exciting to plan marketing campaigns for such an innovative product."

Mrs. M smiled. "It is indeed. I'll admit, these projects are the ones that excite me most. Military contracts pay the bills, but I like engaging with the consumer."

"I can imagine."

"Oh, sweetheart!" Tony interjected. "They're bringing out fresh crab puffs and I promised you you'd get to taste them. Marcus's cooking is to die for. It was lovely to see you, though, Mrs. M."

"And you, Tony. Don't get into too much trouble tonight."

Tony winked. "You know me."

Steve shook her hand again. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"And you. Keep a close eye on him, won't you?"

Steve smiled. "Both of them. As often as I can spare them." Tony dragged Steve away, and he leaned in to nearly press his lips to his ear. "Excellent evasive maneuver, Stark."

Tony giggled. Steve's chest was up against his back in a way that made Tony feel safer than he ever had at one of these things. And it wasn't just physical. Steve didn't seem bothered by glad-handing and chatting and meeting people, and for the first time, Tony was getting a breather. The party was almost fun, really.

They snagged the rest of their treats, then Tony introduced Steve to his favourite R&D team members and they chatted until the lights lowered and the clapping introduced the first speaker.

In the dark, Steve's arm curved around Tony's waist again. Tony wasn't sure that anyone would be able to see, but he wasn't complaining. He found the bottom hem of Steve's jacket with his fingers and fiddled with it throughout the presentation. Steve's hand suddenly jumped up to the back of Tony's neck and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Tony realized he'd tensed up at the mention of the improved battery. That was his responsibility to get right. 

Steve leaned over. "This technology is so amazing," he whispered directly in Tony's ear.

Tony let out a tight breath. When Obie pointed Tony out in the audience, calling him "Stark Industries' genius son," he waved and smiled. Steve clapped beside him, leaning close and taking his hand again as soon as the lights cut back to the stage. 

Steve kept his hand until the presentations were over.

After, the music started and savory nibbles turned into chocolate-covered cheesecake bites and immaculate squares of baklava. The tables were pushed away and a live band started to play. 

"They have dancing at product launches?" Steve asked.

Tony smiled. "It was my mom. She always hosted these things, before. And she loved music, loved dancing. She always wanted it to be a party and 'a party isn't a party until everyone's dancing, Anthony.'"

Steve was quiet and when Tony looked over at him, he was holding his hand out.

"Oh, I… I'm not a very good dancer."

Steve smirked. "That makes two of us."

"Alright..." Tony took his hand and let himself be dragged to the floor. "But there's no benefits in this gig if I break your toe."

"That's alright." Steve swung Tony into his arms. "I have strong toes."

It turned out to be true that neither of them was a very good dancer, but Steve told stories about the kids he taught while they shuffled around the cleared floor, and he was big and warm and smelled good, and as long as they were dancing, no one would try to talk to Tony. Anxiety started melting off him, and he sunk into Steve's hold.

"You find this stuff really hard, don't you?" Steve said softly.

Tony tensed up at first, ready to snap back that he could handle it. But this was Steve. He didn't need to impress Steve. "Yeah," he admitted. "I didn't use to. Back when my parents were alive. But it's harder now, harder with Obie. He has all these expectations of me, and I don't know how to be me and still meet them."

Steve was quiet for a few turns. "Well, if you're prioritizing, I think being you is more important than pleasing Stane."

Tony snorted. "Not many people would agree."

Steve actually stopped dancing for a moment, stepping back to meet Tony's eyes. "The only people who wouldn't are people who want something from you. And that means you have power over them, Tony."

Tony opened his mouth to reply but he honestly had no idea what to say to that. It wasn't not wrong, but it also wasn't quite right, was it? "Um."

Steve curled Tony back into his hold and set off wobbling to the music again. "I have the key lime tarts in my sight," he whispered. "Eight o'clock."

Tony peaked under his arm. "Those do look good."

Two hours later, pockets full of snacks wrapped in napkins, they piled into the car. 

"I'm just saying," Steve said indignantly, the champagne smushing his words together and drawing out the Brooklyn drawl. 

"You have no idea what you're saying," Tony shot back, giggling.

"I'm saying… something about capitalism."

Tony snorted. "Well, you're not saying it very well."

"Shut up."

Tony pitched to the side, almost landing in Steve's lap as the car took a tight turn. "Make me."

The backseat devolved into a slightly disorganized wrestling match that broke up as soon as they both realized the pilfered pastries were at risk of being smushed. The car pulled up in front of Steve's building and Tony got out with him. He shoved his last lime tart in Steve's hands. "Here."

"You should have it," Steve said.

"Nah. I'll get more next year."

"I had fun today." 

Tony peered up at him, and he seemed entirely honest. Huh. Tony didn't know these sorts of things could actually be fun. "Me too," he said, surprising both of them. "Thanks." Steve was just looking at him, and Tony wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He leaned closer, eyes dropping to Steve's lips - because what if Steve tried to kiss him? - but when Steve moved in, he went for a hug instead.

Steve's arms wrapped around Tony and drew him in, not a bro hug, but a full, all-encompassing bear hug, and his face dropped to burrow against the side of Tony's face.

Tony let out a shaky breath and sunk into it. He breathed in Steve's suit jacket, eyes pinched tightly closed. "Thank you," he said again. 

Steve released him after far too long and not nearly long enough. "Goodnight, Tony. Til next time."

"Goodnight."

Tony climbed back in the car and reached into his pockets for a crab puff, but the first thing he found was the key lime tart. Steve had snuck it back in.

**

"Hello?" Tony tucked the phone under his ear and went back to soldering.

"Tony."

"Hey, Pep, love of my life. What's up?"

"It's Bruce's birthday next week so we're going to meet at Anise for dinner tomorrow night. I invited that girl from the party, Natasha, and her friend Clint."

"It scares me that you two hit it off." Tony peered down at the tiny ICs. 

"Bring Steve."

Shit. Tony hadn't thought about the fact that playing the game around some of their friends would mean he had to  _ keep  _ playing the game. "Uh. Not sure Steve can make it. He said something about a thing."

"Alright. Well if he can, I'd love to get to know him better."

"Sure. I'll ask."

"Whatever you got for Bruce, don't you dare bring it with."

Tony stopped soldering and took the phone in hand, moving it to the other ear. "I have the distinct impression I should be offended by that."

"Last year you two blew both of your eyebrows off. Save it for after dinner."

"Okay, fine."

"See you, Tony."

"Bye, Pep."

Tony finished the circuit board then set his soldering iron aside. He picked his phone up again and texted Steve.

_ Tony: I got invited to a dinner thing for Bruce's birthday tomorrow. And Natasha and Clint are coming. I said you were busy, though. _

_ Steve: Oh _

_ Steve: I already told Natasha I could go _

_ Tony: Oh, well then. That's fine. _

_ Steve: Are you sure? _

_ Tony: Of course. I was just trying to give you a hand and get you out of it _

_ Steve: I think it'll be fun _

_ Tony: Uh _

_ Tony: So I'd prefer not to tell Pepper and Clint just yet… _

_ Tony: She's not the best secret keeper and I don't really know Clint at all _

_ Steve: That's fine. We can keep it up for tonight _

_ Tony: Alright. As long as it's okay with you _

_ Steve: Completely okay _

_ Tony: Alright. Meet you there? _

_ Steve: Sounds good _

Tony set the phone aside again. It was obviously kind of weird to fake it on a night when they had no need to, not really, but his stomach did a little flip-flop when he thought about Steve's fingers wound through his again. Maybe Steve would hug him. That had been nice.

Tony had to go straight from class to Anise, so everyone was already there when he arrived. They cheered when he sidled up to their table, and he gave Bruce a big smacking kiss on his cheek and wished him a happy birthday. 

Steve caught his eye and pointed to the empty space next to him on the bench seat along the long side of the table, which Tony took. He was half nervous and half thrilled that Steve had wanted to sit side-by-side. A full table would have been the perfect excuse for them to sit across from each other and not really have to pretend much. But Steve had clearly set aside the seat, and beamed at Tony when he settled in beside him. Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a half-hug. "Hey, babe," he said softly.

"Hey." Tony smiled back. He gave Steve's knee a squeeze. "How are you?"

"Great. I had a good day. They already took apps and drinks so I ordered you mozzarella sticks and a ginger ale. Hope that's okay."

"Uh, yeah. That's perfect. Thanks." It must have been in the briefing that Tony always liked to order that when he went to bars and diners and didn't want to drink.

Dinner was simple and easy. Steve stayed pressed up against him on the bench seat, but for the most part, they focused on the group as a whole, and especially on Bruce. The food was good, there was wine after the appetizers, and everyone was laughing and having a good time. It didn't feel like Tony was pretending, anymore. He was just being himself and Steve was also there. Very there. Very close and there. Which was starting to feel almost normal.

Clint and Natasha left before the cake, which opened up the bench seat, and when Tony got back from the bathroom, Steve had swung one leg up to stretch out along the length of it, leaning back against the wooden divider at the end. When he saw Tony, he patted the space between his legs and Tony sat down, feeling like every eye was on him. But when Steve drew him down against his chest, Tony immediately had to fight the urge to drop off to sleep right there. He'd never been so comfortable in his life. Steve took Tony's hands in his and started gently massaging his palms. 

No one was paying attention to them, so Tony watched their bound hands and said, "You're touchy."

"Hmm?"

"Touchy. Like not 'light blue touch paper' touchy, but you like to touch people touchy."

"Oh, yeah. It's - uh - what's that thing? My love language? I like touch. I always feel like I'm not really with someone unless I'm touching them. Do you mind?"

"No, no…" Tony twisted their hands so now he was the one holding Steve's. He shifted up to his wrists and started rubbing them the way he did his own after a long day at the computer. Steve sighed with contentment and relaxed under him. "It's nice. I don't really - It's nice."

"Good." Steve pressed a soft kiss to the side of Tony's face. 

Steve was so good at this, found it so easy and natural to just invade Tony's… everything, like this. This wasn't even a real relationship and Steve had an ease with him that none of Tony's previous partners ever had. Tony felt like he ought to find that horrible, but instead it was just… well it was nice. Being here with Steve was nice, and the fact that it wasn't real really didn't seem to matter much. Because the way Steve was twisting his wrist into Tony's touch, asking gently for more, was real. And the safety of Steve's chest pressed against Tony's back was real. Did anything else really matter?

"I made something for you," Steve said.

"What?"

"I thought it'd be nice if you wore something from me. It'd look cute in pictures." One of Steve's hands disappeared and he dislodged Tony for a moment while he rummaged around in his pocket. Then he sat up full and wrapped himself around Tony from behind. "You don't have to wear it if you don't want to." He opened his hand and inside was a bracelet. 

It was just made of knotted cord, the kind kids made at camp, but there was a deep red bead tangled in one of the twists of gold cord, and it was intricate enough that Steve must have spent a little time on it, at least. 

"I was teaching my kids and I thought, well, why not. Like I said, you don't have to wear it. I just was thinking maybe -"

Tony realized Steve was babbling out of nervousness and he plucked up the bracelet. "I love it," he said, honestly. He couldn't remember the last time someone had put that much careful attention into something just for him, for no reason. "Thank you."

Steve tied it around Tony's wrist at his prompting, then Tony turned in his arms and kissed him. It was a quick, chaste, polite kiss, but it was their first lip-to-lip kiss nonetheless, and Tony found himself blushing anyway. Then the table exploded with a chorus of coos and cheers and Tony broke off to flip everyone off, making Steve laugh. 

"You guys are so cute," Pepper said, beaming.

"You only think we're cute cause you didn't hear the truly shocking thing Steve just whispered in my ear a moment ago. Seriously. There were words in there even I didn't know. The promises he made? I'm honestly not even sure all of them are legal. I'm going to have to take up yoga again, because I'm going to have to be twisted up into a pretzel to accomplish some of these feats of fu-"

"Tony!" Steve slapped a hand over Tony's mouth with a laugh. "This is why you're not allowed out in public most of the time."

Tony licked his palm, but Steve didn't pull away. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Tony's waist and dragged him practically into his lap and smacked a kiss against the side of his face. "Be good." He took his hand away.

"Sir, yes, sir," Tony said, shooting a smirk at Steve. And he winked back.

**

_ Tony: Obie wants you to come to brunch on Friday with some of the board members _

_ Tony: I told him you taught in the mornings and probably couldn't make it _

_ Tony: But he said I have to at least ask. _

_ Steve: I can make it _

_ Tony: Don't you teach? _

_ Steve: I can rearrange things _

_ Tony: You don't have to do that _

_ Steve: It's okay. I don't mind.  _

Tony stared at his phone in confusion. He wasn't sure what to say to that. Though, he supposed, Steve would probably make more money off a brunch with him and Obie than teaching his classes, which was depressing, really, but the unfortunate truth. So it made sense he'd reorganize his other job to get the chance to work for Tony more. 

Tony told Obie they'd both be there then forced himself to focus on his thesis for the next few days, only taking breaks when Steve texted him a few times to remind him to hydrate or when Rhodey sent him memes.

On Friday morning, Steve was his usual charming self, shaking hands and aw-shucksing and doting on Tony. When Steve's hand landed on his shoulder, Tony subtly shook it off, ignoring the careful look Steve shot him. It just felt too heavy resting there.

As they were getting their jackets on after, Steve laughing it up with the development department head, Obie hooked the back of Tony's neck and gave him a little shake. "Bring him to the Rising STEM Stars gala."

"Obie…"

"No excuses, Tony." He turned away, and Tony was suddenly so tired he barely had the energy to smile and shake hands and say goodbye to everyone.

Steve asked him if he wanted to study at his studio, but Tony shook his head. "I have class prep. I'd better get back to campus."

"Alright. Do you know when you need me next?"

"Obie just -" Tony broke up and rubbed his hand over his face. "It's the eighteenth. Next weekend."

"Okay. I'll write it down."

Tony frowned at Steve. "You don't have to say yes to everything. It's more often than I expected."

"I don't mind."

"You should," Tony mumbled to himself, but Steve didn't seem to hear. "I have to go."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

Back at his apartment, Tony stropped around uselessly for a while then shoved everything in his bag ten minutes too late and had to run to make it to his class on time. He gave his lecture on autopilot then bailed out citing a dentist appointment before anyone could stop him to ask questions.

Tony was lying facedown on his living room floor with all the lights off when Rhodey let himself in and the smell of pizza permeated the whole apartment. Tony made a needy little groaning noise and Rhodey sat on the couch and put his feet on Tony's back. "What are you moping about?"

"Literally everything," Tony mumbled into the carpet fibres.

"Well, come up here and eat pizza while you mope."

"Okay." Tony crawled up on the couch and shoved a pepperoni slice in his mouth.

"What are we moping about?"

Tony chewed. "Obie's getting weird so Steve and I have to stage our break-up." Tony tried to remember the rest of that sentence, but it eluded him for a moment. "And then," he tumbled out when it came back to him, "I'll be stuck without The Boyfriend as an excuse."

"Right," Rhodey said, dipping his pizza in ranch. "When's the big day?"

"After the fundraiser next week. I'll need some supportive friend insta posts, probably. But it's going to be amicable."

Rhodey gave Tony an odd look. "Is it?"

"Well, yeah. Kinda against the point if it makes me look even more unhinged than usual. It's supposed to be all sober and mature and we still text and I get the kids every other weekend kind of thing."

"Sure."

"You're loquacious tonight."

Rhodey's eyes narrowed. "Put on the game, Moaning Myrtle."

Tony reached for the remote.

**

_ Tony: We need to talk about the STEM Stars thing _

_ Steve: I'm at Annie's all afternoon if you want to swing by _

_ Tony: Okay, I'll see you at 2 _

Steve was sitting at a quiet corner booth with pages of notes spread out over the table. There was a tiny, contemplative frown on his face, but when he looked up and saw Tony, it melted away. "Hey, you," he said, and Tony almost lost his nerve.

But this needed doing. He sat in the chair opposite and folded his hands on the table in front of him. "We need to break up."

Steve's expression flashed through several emotions Tony couldn't name but landed on resolve. "Okay."

"It's getting too complicated. And Obie likes you too much. Trust me, that's a bad thing. He's pushing to see you all the time, and keeping track of everything is just - it's just not working."

"Okay."

"We still have to do the Friday thing, but I think we should break up right after that." Tony squirmed in his seat. "Is that okay?"

Steve was very still. "It's your show, Tony. Whatever you think is best."

"Right. Okay." The ache low in Tony's chest was back. He rubbed across his breastbone, trying to ease the pain. "We'll be cool and a bit distant at the fundraiser. I'll draft a tweet on your account that's scheduled to go off late that night. It'll look like we were already not doing well at the party and then we went home after and had a fight that ended in a break-up. I'll get asked about it next time I see the press and I'll tell them it was an amicable split and we're better as friends. I'll pay you a bonus to cover the press hounding you'll get for a few weeks."

There was an awkward pause then Steve said, "You don't have to do that."

"It's only fair."

"Okay."

Tony stood. "I should - uh." He gestured towards the door. 

Steve stood too then leaned over and pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek. "Some people are watching," he whispered in Tony's ear.

Tony forced himself to smile. "See ya."

"Bye, sweetheart."

It wasn't until Tony was two blocks away that tears prickled the corners of his eyes and he scowled down at the pavement, trying to channel his heartbreak into anger instead. It didn't make sense for this to bother him as much as a real break-up. Steve had never really been his. As far as public perception went, it would do nothing but good for his reputation to have had a successful year-long relationship that didn't end in a half-naked screaming match in an airport parking lot.

Not that he knew what that was like or anything.

Still, there was a spot deep under his ribs that ached at the thought of Steve disappearing out of his life for good. Maybe they could stay friends. That was, of course, if Steve thought of him as a friend at all and not an employer or some weird, sad, celebrity who had to pay for dates.

The cloud hanging over Tony's head followed him all the way through class and back to SI where he worked late into the night.

**

The fundraiser sucked.

The chicken was overcooked, the music was tinny and off-beat, and everyone was stupid and annoying. Tony pouted at his cheesecake. Even the cheesecake was dumb.

Steve had been his usual annoying, perfect self all night, but he'd been giving Tony careful distance to start setting up the holes in their relationship. They'd arrived separately, so rumours were no doubt already online and Steve's carefully crafted tweet later would confirm it. Tony had been chilly towards him and neither had asked the other to dance.

Tony's current mood would likely also help convince anyone who saw his raincloud wafting around the ballroom. Maybe he was being a little too convincing, really. He worked his fork in between the crust and the cake and carefully parted them.

"Can I get you a drink?" Steve appeared at his elbow, and Tony scowled up at him. 

"No, thanks."

Steve sat down and pressed a little closer. "You okay?"

"Course. Just, you know, playing the part. We're falling apart, right? It's not like a year is given up lightly," he snapped, a little too harshly.

Steve pulled his hand back, shifting out of Tony's space. "Right. Of course. I'll just - uh. I'll -" He walked away and Tony was left feeling even worse. 

Deciding that a drink sounded good after all, Tony abandoned his dismantled cake and made for the bar. He ordered something expensive and sulked his way to a stool where he started nursing it.

"Come with me." Obie's fingers curled around Tony's elbow and he tugged him away from the bar and down the hall. Once they were free of the party, he released his hold, but Tony still felt dragged along after him. He missed the warm pressure of Steve's weight at his side instead, but that was something he was going to have to get used to.

Obie slipped into an empty room and turned around to face Tony, a cruel smile on his face. "You are clever, aren't you, my boy?"

Tony tried not to squirm. "What do you mean?"

"What is he, a hooker? That's not going to look good on the cover of Forbes."

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The  _ boyfriend,  _ Tony. You don't really think you have me fooled, do you? You never did. I know there was never a boyfriend. And now clearly you've hired some starving drama student or up-and-coming actor to play the part. It's a little sad, you know, to pay for it. I hope he's at least putting out at the end of the night."

Tony's blood ran ice cold. "That's not -"

"Isn't it?" Obie pressed in close, and Tony could smell the scotch on his breath. "I'm not an idiot, Tony," he growled. "You're as smart as your father, but you lack discipline, you lack the vision he had, the  _ responsibility.  _ You're nothing but a spoiled brat and this proves it. You can't solve all your problems with money, son. Some are solved with hard work. And I can see now that you'll never understand that. You'll never live up to what this company needs from you. You're an immature, over-indulged kid and the only way you'll ever learn is if I -"

Something hard banged into Tony from behind and he stumbled to the side, catching himself on the edge of an armchair. When he looked up again, Obie was pressed against the wall next to the door, Steve's fist twisted in a handful of the front of Obie's shirt. A red mark was blooming on Obie's cheek. Steve had  _ hit  _ him.

"You  _ never  _ get to talk to Tony like that," Steve growled. "You hateful, greedy, bigoted man. You know, it's obvious to everyone except Tony what you're doing here. You belittle him, you stomp him down, you tell him he's nothing, and if you keep doing it, maybe he won't take away the power you crave that's rightfully his, maybe he won't step up, maybe you can keep forcing money from the golden goose, only tossing a handful of bare grains in return. Everyone sees it but him, Stane.

"I can't convince Tony to call the board meeting to oust you from your  _ temporary  _ role as CEO. I can't convince him to put you out on your ass like he should. But I can tell you that as long as I'm in earshot,  _ nobody  _ talks to Tony like that. Not even you." Steve released the handful of Obie's shirt and he slid down the wall a few inches. "You're also wrong. I'm with Tony because he's brilliant, kind, generous, funny, sexy, and understanding. I'm with Tony because I'm in love with him. And if you don't get that, it's only because your care for him has only ever been self-serving. I love him because of who he already is, not who you want him to be." Steve took a step back and dusted his hands off. "Anyway, I'm sure the police are about to be called, but I'll see myself out. You can give them my address."

He turned towards the door, and his eyes caught on Tony's. "I'm sorry," he said softly, and then he was gone.

"Wha -" Obie spluttered uselessly for a moment, his hand coming up to cover his cheek. "Your so-called boyfriend just  _ hit  _ me!" He rounded on Tony with a roar, but for once in his life, Tony held his ground. He took a deep breath, set his jaw, latched his eyes on Obie's, and held his ground. Obie stopped a foot away, chest heaving.

"If you call the police, I'm calling that board meeting. I think you should go home and ice that," Tony said flatly.

Obie stared at him for a moment, eyes flashing, but then he turned and whipped out of the room with another growl. 

Tony let out the breath but it caught on a shaky sob at the end and he slapped a hand over his mouth. His knees wobbled so he let himself sit down on the arm of the chair, hands shaking. Had that really happened? Had Steve really -

_ Steve. _

Steve was leaving. Steve who had cued up their break-up tweet to go live in less than two hours.

Tony rocketed himself off the chair; he wasn't shaking anymore. He had to find Steve.

Tony flew down the hall, down the stairs, and out the back door. He screeched to a halt, looking left and right. Left was the subway, right was the several mile walk back to Steve's house. Would Steve walk or take the subway home? Tony turned right and started to run.

After two blocks, a hunched over back came into view: Steve power walking down the sidewalk.

"Steve!" Tony all but collided with him, but Steve turned, startled, at the last minute and caught Tony's arms to settle him. He released him immediately, but he didn't punch Tony too and march off, so that had to be a good sign. All of the thoughts and words and ideas in Tony's brain were too jumbled to make sense. "He's not going to call the police," he managed.

Steve's face fell minutely. "Oh. Okay. Thank you." Steve frowned. "You could have texted me that."

Tony grabbed Steve's tie and tugged down until Steve bent. He pressed a soft kiss to Steve's cheek. "Thank you," Tony whispered. He released him and Steve snapped back, eyes wide with shock now. "No one's ever - thank you. You didn't need to do that, but it means a lot to me."

"Tony, I -" Steve broke off, teeth running over his lip as a thousand emotions flashed across his face. Then he stepped in impossibly close, and dropped his voice low. "Tony, the way you talk about yourself, the things you say, I used to think it was your father's voice, in your head, that made you think that way. But now that I know you, know him, I see it isn't. It's Stane. That dark whisper that says you're not good enough? It's him. And Tony?" Steve cupped his face gently between his hands, held him steady until their eyes met. "Don't listen, okay? It's not true. I meant what I said. You're kind, and generous, and brilliant, and so, so worthwhile. I hope you can see that."

Steve held him for a moment longer then let his hands drop away, stepping back. "Anyway, I had a lot of fun up until the end there. Thank you for choosing me. I'm sorry I screwed it up, though I guess this gives you a pretty good reason to break up with me. I hope I haven't caused you too much trouble, but I can't say I regret it." He took a step back. "Take care of yourself, Tony. Maybe we'll bump into each other again, some day."

And that was it, the idea that it was a  _ maybe _ that Tony would see him again, that propelled Tony forward. He launched himself at Steve, stumbling against his chest and gripping his sleeves with both hands. "Wait!" Steve stilled, let himself be held there. "There was one other thing you told Obie," Tony breathed, "after the kind, generous, funny stuff. Was - was that true too?"

Steve's expression twisted into a longing sort of melancholy. Open and honest, Tony could see the truth in every word when Steve whispered, "It was  _ all _ true."

"Steve -"

"I think I should go home, Tony." Steve tried to pull away.

"Wait. I - please wait." Steve stopped. Tony's hand twitched compulsively over to the bracelet that circled his left wrist. "I'm in love with you, too," he admitted, tilting his head to the side with an almost shrug. "I - honestly? I get it if you want to just go home and wash this night off. And maybe you need some space away from me, and that's fine. But if you really feel that way about me, if you meant what you said? Well, nothing would make me happier right now than you deleting that tweet. And maybe we could start over. When you're ready. And do this right. And for real."

Steve stared at Tony for a terrifying moment and then he was right there, gathering Tony up in his arms, holding him close. Tony burrowed his face into Steve's neck, eyes prickling with overwhelmed tears as he grabbed two handfuls of Steve's jacket and held on for dear life. 

The thing that finally cinched it for Tony was that he expected the hug to feel different from Steve's other hugs, but it didn't. There was no new officialness about the way Steve's face pressed into Tony's hair. No boyfriend quality to the hand that cupped the back of Tony's neck. It wasn't different. Except this time, Tony was free to enjoy it exactly the way he wanted to: recklessly, and without qualifiers.

"Come over?" Steve asked, as he pulled back, still holding Tony close, but leaning away enough to match their gazes. "I'd like it to just be us for a little while, if that's okay."

"That's perfect. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"We take my car or a cab or something. Because maybe you like to rage-walk four hundred miles in the bitter cold, but some of us are human."

Steve burst into laughter. "Yeah, ok. We'll take the car." He smirked cheekily. "But it's only three miles, and it's sixty-five degrees, Tony."

"Superhuman, I swear." Tony looked down to his phone as he shot a text to his driver. When he looked back up, Steve was smiling at him with something warm and wonderful shining in his eyes. 

"I love you for real," he said.

"I love you for real, too."

Steve bent a little, and Tony tipped his chin up to meet him. Their lips pressed together. This  _ did  _ feel different. This time, Steve didn't hold back. There was nothing chaste, or polite, or distant about this kiss. There was seven hundred pounds of barely restrained  _ want  _ melting through this kiss, and Tony wanted to explore every ounce of it.

Then Steve broke the kiss with a startled little noise, and Tony jerked away. "What? What's wrong?"

Steve blushed. "I didn't erase the tweet yet." He laughed. "That would be embarrassing." He tapped away on his phone for a moment, then tucked it back in his pocket. He curled his hand around Tony's neck again, rubbing his thumb just behind his ear. "Now. Where was I?"

"I think you were just about to show your boyfriend a little tongue," Tony told him.

"Boyfriend, huh?" Steve asked, grinning now.

"Yeah, boyfriend." Tony threw both arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. "I'm finding I quite like the sound of that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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